


kinds of duty

by Antonia_Simmons



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, minor warning for homophobic slurs and the tiniest bit of blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 14:12:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antonia_Simmons/pseuds/Antonia_Simmons
Summary: I’m not Torchwood when I’m at home. I’m Colin’s husband.





	kinds of duty

Mr. Colchester has had a long day at work. But he hadn't had a night out with Colin in ages, and when he indeed makes it home just in time for the movies he doesn't back out. They even walk to the cinema ("It's more romantic this way!" "Whatever you say love...").

They actually have a good time, too. The movie's nice, but simple enough for him to not miss much of when he inevitably dozes off on Colin's shoulder once (or several times).

The year isn't young anymore, and by the time they leave, it's dark. The streets are almost deserted (understandably, with how things are), and even Mr. Colchester has to admit that holding hands like this, under the soft glow of the streetlights, is kind of romantic. That is, until an angry whisper reaches their ears,

"Fuckin' faggots..."

"I'm sorry?", Mr. Colchester says, loud and firm, facing the young man who'd spoken (he was in his mid-twenties at best) directly. Colin tugs at his hand less-than-discretly, _let it go, please_ , but he doesn't budge.

And the young man isn't intimidated easily. "I said", he slowly repeats, stalking towards the pair, "that you're fucking disgusting" at this, he jabs his index finger at Mr. Colchester "and should be ashamed of yourselves. But you're not smart enough for that, are you?" He scoffs, and grins, as if he's just made a genuis point. "So how about me and the boys teach you a lil' lesson?"

'The boys' being a group of four other men, vaguely his age (some possibly even younger), who have circled the couple while their apparent leader had talked. All are dressed in black, and one carries a baseball bat which he pats into his palm in an obvious attempt to seem more menacing.

Mr. Colchester taxes them all carefully and then closes his eyes, sighing deeply. "Boys", he says. "Please. I've had a really long and mostly unpleasant day. If you leave right now, I swear I won't follow you."

Everything is completely quite for about three seconds, then the whole group bursts into laughter at the same time. "Do you hear that? Do you??", their leader gasps out between wheezes, "the fag thinks he's scary!" Mr. Colchester just sighs again, squeezes Colin's hand once, and lets it go. He opens his eyes.

The fight doesn't last a minute.

When all immediate attackers are on the ground, Mr. Colchester does a quick headcount. One, two, three, four... wait.

"You. You hold perfectly still." The last one still standing is also the youngest of the group, maybe 16 or 17. His voice trembles and so do his hands, but he's still got his switchblade trained at Colin. Mr. Colchester finds himself sighing. He's doing that a lot lately.

"Put the knife down."

"No!", the boy - for this one really is just that, a misguided, foolish boy - all but yells. "You, you step down and- and-"

"And what?", Mr. Colchester asks, trying his hardest to remain patient, but really he's just tired. So very tired. One of the guys he's knocked out stirs and tries to get up. He punches him without even really looking.

Somehow, though, that of all things seems to be what startles the boy into action - he applies the blade directly to Colin's throat. [Mr. Colchester makes a mental note to teach his husband some basic self-defense moves. It is really bordering on the ridiculous that a mountain of a man like him only works out for the sake of it, and doesn't know close combat at all. Worse, it's careless of him to let that go on for so long. [[Maybe he'd just not wanted to think of that ever being a skill necessary for such a soft-spoken, kind-hearted pacifist to learn, paradoxical as that sounds when said out loud. Maybe, maybe, maybe.]]] "Go away."

"We were already leaving", Mr. Colchester offers carefully. "Just put down the knife -"

"No!!!", the boy yells again, and his hand shakes so hard he the blade in it bites into the soft hollow of Colin's throat. It's just the tiniest of cuts, not really dangerous at all and possibly not even painful. But for Colin it's all kinds of strange and horrifying - and worse, as of late, also terribly familiar - and his eyes go wide in pure fear. It's like a switch is flipped in Mr. Colchester's head.

He's not indulging the boy anymore.

"Put. The knife. Down", he requests for a final time, in a voice as toneless as death. In his hands (not shaking one bit) he holds the gun he always carries in case of an unanticipated Weevil - or Sorvix - encounter. Firmly trained on the boy's head. (Of course that's a bluff - he'll shoot his shoulder at best - but subtelity is clearly lost on this one.)

It's the boy's turn to look scared. He still doesn't remove the knife, though. "You- you- you're bluffing", he finally manages. "You won't just shoot me like this, on a street, in public!!!" His voice goes higher and higher at the end, almost shrill, and it echoes of the pavement in a terrible mockery of his statement. Little about their current situation is 'public' - there's no one there to see anything.

There are a million and no things Mr. Colchester could reply to him. In the end, he settles on: "Do I really look like someone who hasn't gotten away with murder before?" He knows he's laying on thick, but he needs to reach the boy and fast, and it's not like he's lying.

Finally, the boy seems to realize that he's in a hopeless situation.

"Just walk away", Mr. Colchester tells him. "Drop the knife and walk."

"You'll shoot me in the back", the boy mumbles, a token protest at best.

"Well, if you don't walk, I'll shoot you through the front, so..."

The boy gulps, once, and then takes a single step back from Colin. Drops the knife. And breaks into a dead run. Mr. Colchester's heart aches for the boy when he thinks about how easy it'd be even for a mediocre shot to pick him off like this. If he stays in this kind of crowd much longer, he won't survive.

Back to more important matter now though. Mr. Colchester sighs a final time, holsters his gun and walks over to Colin quickly. "You okay baby?"

Colin is trembling slightly when he touches him, but a quick inspection of the wound thankfully proves Mr. Colchester's initial assessment - it's utterly harmless. It still takes Colin a few tries to choke an answer out. "Yeah.. yeah. I'm okay. I think."

A heartbeat passes, another. Almost deafening in the silence under the streetlights. Then, Mr. Colchester gives in to the impulse and grabs his husband tightly, all but burrying his face in his neck. ''Let's go home'', he whispers, and what he means is 'Let's run away forever.'

''Yeah'', Colin rasps in reply, and what he means is, 'Good idea.'


End file.
